"Six hundred blutsgers," said the lad softly, for he was quite overpowered with the magnitude of this sum as compared with Stineli's twelve blutsgers.
"And, moreover, my son, do you imagine that you have only to take a fiddle in your hand to be able to play on it at once? It takes a long time to do that. Come in here now, for a moment." And the teacher opened the door, and took his fiddle from its place on the wall. "There," he said, as he placed it on Rico's arm, "take the bow in your hand,—so, my boy; and if you can play me c, d, e, f, I will give you a half-gulden."
Rico had the fiddle really in his hand; his eyes sparkled with fire; c, d, e, f,—he played the notes firmly and perfectly correctly. "You little rascal!" cried the astonished teacher, "where did you learn that? Who taught you? How do you find the notes?"
"I can do more than that, if I may," said the boy.
"Play, then."
And Rico played correctly, and with enthusiasm,—
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"Little lambkins, come down From the bright sunny height; The daylight is fading, The sun says, 'Good-night!'" |
RICO PLAYED CORRECTLY, AND WITH ENTHUSIASM